More Than Meets the Eye
by TipToeDancer
Summary: Jo Merino is a grad student, trying to make a name for herself and get through college. From the outside, she looks like a stereotypical cheerleader, and falls prey to a collector. On the inside? There's so much more, and Spencer might just stand a chance. Starts out slow, I'm trying to keep things as realistic as possible.
1. Chapter 1

There was something absolutely captivating about Jo Merino's dreams. Dreams of helping children in Africa, India, even in the United States, dreams of making a name for herself, and dreams of becoming wildly successful as a public health official. There was something far less captivating about the road to those dreams. The familiar sensation of her foot ensnaring itself upon an invisible obstacle brought her back to reality; a reality which she was far from satisfied with. The reality was that Jo was a broke college student, going to Old Dominion University to get her master's in Public Health. The only way she was able to afford this was her full-ride cheerleading scholarship, and the only way she could keep that was by maintaining her impeccable health. To do this, she found herself jogging in the park. She wore a bright blue tank top with a pair of solid black running shorts, and to most she would appear to be the stereotypical cheerleader. Her long blonde hair swept her shoulder blades even as it was pulled up in a pony tail, and her big blue eyes seemed accentuated from her well-tanned skin. From a distance, she was "that girl". She accepted this. It got her through college, and while it caused her some problems initially she overcame them. Just like she always did.

After rounding a turn she could have wept with relief, her route was over. 5 miles later and she was beyond exhausted. She stopped for only a moment to turn off her ipod, and take a gulp of water before heading to her motorcycle. It was her gift to herself, mostly because she couldn't afford the gas it would take to drive a car, but also because it broke the stereotype she portrayed. When she was on the bright red sports bike, she wasn't a dumb blonde valley girl anymore. In those precious moments hiding under her helmet, no one could see her face. She was a bad ass. Smiling, she put her things into the small bag on her back and made her way to her bike when something stopped her. A shrill shriek. Not the kind of shriek a child lets out when they're hurt, or angry. This was a cry of pure terror. Her head whipped around towards the sound and saw a man what appeared to be a woman into the bushes.

"HELP! OH MY GOD HELP!" Jo screamed in a panic, before noticing there was no one else around. Pulling out her cell-phone and pepper spray, Jo dialed 911 as she ran after the man, "Hello? Yes I'm at Green Valley park, a man just abducted-MMPH!" Her voice was cut off as a hand covered her mouth. "Shh… It'll be ok Jo Anna, I'm not here to hurt you." Said a silky smooth voice behind her. She could hear the operator on the phone calling out to her, and looking around frantically she noticed the girl the man had been dragging. She seemed to be about 19, only a few years younger than herself, with a slender build and blonde hair with blue eyes. And she was bleeding from the head. "If I let go, you can't run or I'll kill the girl, do you understand?" Jo nodded frantically, eyes not leaving the young woman. The man released her and circled her, much like a predator analyzing its prey. "I've waited for so long Jo Anna, the others were practice you see? You deserve the best." Said the man, who seemed to be only a few years older than her. She had seen him before, his brown mousy hair and beetle-like blue eyes seemed uncannily familiar…she couldn't place it though.

"Th-thank you…" She murmered, keeping her head low, wondering how she would escape this situation. She heard the sounds of cars approaching from far off, before cries rang out, "Hello? Miss? We received a call-"

"YOU CALLED THE COPS?!" The man hissed in a whisper, his eyes narrowing, "Jo Anna, I can't carry her and she can't tell them what I look like…" His voice was no longer smooth, now menacing as he glanced at the girl on the ground and withdrew a knife from his pocket. Without thinking, Jo screamed, "NO! YOU LEAVE HER BE!" and she was on the man in an instant, fists flying, teeth gnashing, kicking, with animalistic battle cries. She felt the knife cut into her arm, and then her hand as she grabbed it, before the man grabbed her hair and she kicked him as hard as physically possible straight in the chin. Stumbling backwards, he snarled, "This isn't over." His voice chilled her to the bone, but he fled, leaving her and his previous victim alone in the woods.

There was rustling further back in the trees and Jo began to cry out, "Over here! Please! Help!" before turning her attention to the pale girl on the ground. She had lost a lot of blood. Ripping off her shirt, Jo put pressure on her head wound before feeling for a pulse. None. "No, no, no!" Jo hissed, before throwing herself next to the girl and beginning CPR. Jo remember exactly how to do the compressions with terrifying precision, and as the BAU team entered the clearing the site was far from pretty. Blood was everywhere, covering both victims, (who could have been sisters) as well as the ground around them. Dr. Spencer Reid was slightly taken aback as the girl yelled, "Someone call for an ambulance! Tell them we have an unresponsive female with a head wound and no pulse, then report back to me, do you understand?!"

Hotchner was the first with his phone out, giving direct orders. "Which way did he go, ma'am?" Asked Morgan, leaning down slightly. "To your right, although he may be long gone by now." The girl said, not ceasing her relentless attempt to revive the younger girl.

"Morgan, Prentiss, see if you can catch up to him. Reid-" Hotch started, but was interrupted.

"I need someone over here applying pressure to a head wound, please!" The girl barked from the ground. Rossi was the first on the ground, holding the tank-top to the girl's head. Reid heard EMTs coming through, and as they approached one held a stretcher, whilst the other two removed the conscious girl from the body. As she stood up, J.J. was the first to notice that she was injured as well.

"Miss, please sit down you need medical care." She said, approaching lightly, but as she did the girl nodded a dazed look on her face, before falling completely unconscious to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Heads up: I own nothing but my own characters.

"What we have here, is a collector." Said Agent Hotchner to his team, "Who appears to be targeting a certain kind of woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes, slender build. Looking at the bodies we can see evidence of sexual assault, as well as torture. It seems to be personal to him, but he leaves the faces untouched."

"Perhaps to show that he values the face more than the body?" Asked Emily Prentiss from one side of the table they were sitting at, "Most women complain that men focus on their bodies, perhaps this guy likes a pretty face as well." Hotchner nodded before continuing on, "His most recent victim was Jo Merino, a graduate student at Old Dominion, 23, and a cheerleader. She certainly fits the profile. Having escaped, she's currently recovering in the hospital. Reid, Morgan, I want you two to head over there and interview her." The two nodded in acknowledgement before heading to the car provided.

"Man, those are the type of girls every guy likes. Blonde hair, blue eyes, long tan legs…" Morgan said with a shake of his head. "Hitler also put a strong emphasis on the Aryan features you know-" Reid started but Morgan groaned, "Man, this is why you don't have girls like that chasing after you. I bring up how hot they are, and you start talking about Hitler." A dry chuckle escaped the man's throat as they settled into silence.

The truth was, Reid was terrified. These were the type of girls every guy dreamed about, he did too at one point. Then he came to acknowledge that most of them were shallow, unintelligent, and out of his league. From then on the only thing attractive women brought him was shame and embarrassment, and he had to go interview one. He could already feel her judgemental glances towards him, and he could imagine her advances on Morgan. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As much as he wanted to bring this guy to justice, he really didn't want to be the one interviewing victims…

Jo

After having several stitches and countless swabs and tests, Jo checked herself out of the hospital. But not before discovering that the girl she had attempted to save was far beyond her help. She felt sick to her stomach… They were all practice, he told her… Would there be more? She shivered and put her game face on, before flopping down on her couch in a pair of shorts and a long racerback tanktop. For a moment, she simply held herself, before getting up and putting on some hot water for tea. A knock on her door almost made her jump out of her skin. Sliding her hand on top of the refrigerator, she felt the familiar hand of her .38 pistol, and slipped it into the back of her shorts. Quietly, she crept to the door, peaking out the peephole. A tall dark-skinned man and a slender man with longish hair stood outside her door. She sighed a sigh of relief before opening the door, "How can I help you gentlemen?" She asked with a soft southern twang, keeping one hand in her back pocket near the gun.

"My name is Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI's behavioral analysis unit. May we come in?" One of the men asked. She nodded happily and stepped out of the way, "Please, make yourself at home. I've got some water boiling if you'd like some tea, or I could make coffee if you'd like." She offered, showing them to the small living room where there was an overstuffed armchair and a futon. Seating himself on the futon Agent Morgan shook his head, "No thank you, Miss. Although I will say you're pretty hard to find. You weren't at the hospital." He said, watching her with an observing eye. Reid followed Morgan, but slightly slower, taking in his surroundings. She had no television, but numerous bookshelves filled with old textbooks, and manuals. In the corner of the room there was a desk, seated by the window and next to the fireplace.

"Call me Jo." She said, before returning to the kitchen and making herself some tea and returning the gun to its hiding place. "And I have a midterm that I needed to study for as well as other…things I needed to attend to." She flopped down in the oversized armchair and tucked her legs beneath her as her right hand drifted lazily to cover the stitches on her left forearm. Feeling the tickle of the sutures, she let out a small gasp and looked down.

"Jo, I know this is hard for you right now, but I need you to tell me as much as you can about what happened today." Morgan said, glancing at Spencer. Spencer had a puzzled look on his face, but kept himself distant from the interview as he waited for her answer.

"I was jogging my normal route that I take every Thursday," She began, recounting the events. She repeated everything he said to her, word for word, and even began to mimick his mannerisms before she concluded her story and sank back into her chair. "I knew him." She said softly, wrapping her arms around herself, "He used my full name and I recognized him… I just can't think of where from…" The quiet seemed unnerving.

"Jo, what are you going to school for currently?" Spencer asked suddenly, and she jerked her head up and caught his eyes with hers. "I'm going for my master's in Public Health. Why do you ask?" Morgan understood was happening, as she spoke of her schooling she seemed to open up just a bit more. "I was curious, and what's your undergraduate degree?"

"Microbiology, but how does this pertain to the investigation?" She asked, and the wall was back up. "The unsub appears to be connected with you in some way, and somewhat scorned. Have you had any failed relationships recently?" Spencer continued on. "I don't have time for relationships, so no." She said sharply, before directing her eyes to her desk. The color drained from her face, as she saw what appeared to be a boquet of gerber daisies resting in a vase, "Those weren't here when I left…" She whispered, before warily walking over. A note was tucked within them, and she plucked it out gingerly. "Miss Merino I don't think that's wise-" Spencer started towards her, but he was too late.

"This isn't over, Jo Anne" She read in a hauntingly stoic voice. Spencer slipped on some gloves before gingerly taking the note and vase, "This may have finger prints." He said, examining the object. "He's been in my apartment…" She whispered, fear creeping its way into her voice. "Do you have any family or friends you can stay with in the area?" Asked Morgan, making his way over to them. "No, and I'm not leaving if I did." She said stubbornly, "I have practice in an hour. What are the chances he'll be there?"

"Watching? Perhaps, but I doubt he'd try anything. Are you sure you're up to that? After all, you just fought off a serial killer." Spencer asked with a hint of concern, before mentally kicking himself.

"The kid's right," Agent Morgan interjected, "why don't you take some time off? Agent Reid and I will remain here as your personal body guards so you'll have nothing to worry about." He shot her a dazzling, but reassuring smile and she returned it with one of her own. It was then that Reid noticed how beautiful she was. "Thank you, Agent Morgan. But I'll be going to practice." She said, before brushing past him. "Then so will we." Morgan countered with a determined smile, "And we're driving." The look she gave him could have killed a Navy SEAL dead where he was standing, but she stalked off to her room instead.

Morgan chuckled, "I think that one's going to be okay. So how are you feelin' Reid? Excited for your first cheerleading practice?" Spencer glared at him, "I think I would prefer to wait in the car."


	3. Chapter 3

**YAY! I put this story up last night and I already have a follower. Whoever you are, thank you so much! So, I know it seems that Jo is a little bland and lackluster characterwise but it's going to get better in this chapter. Furthermore, I would REALLY appreciate any and all reviews. As always, I own nothing but my characters.**

Roughly 45 minutes later, Morgan and Spencer were sitting in the bleachers of the ODU gym watching the cheerleading practice. Well, Morgan was watching the cheerleading practice. Spencer was on a laptop, attempting to work on the case. It was obvious that Jo was the intended target, and the unsub had said himself that the others were just practice. But there was something different about how he tried to take Jo. There were certainly correlations between the cases: All the victims shared a similar appearance, age, and they were all taken from public places. All these things were consistent. There was no connecting factor within the occupations, or hobbies of the victims, but one thing stood out to Spencer. None of the other girls appeared to have struggled. They were all taken from a public place, but none of them seemed to show any signs of being drugged or forced to go with the unsub. With Jo, the unsub used another girl as bait. Why?

"Morgan, I just had a thought." Spencer said suddenly, snapping Morgan out of his gaze. Morgan turned attentively, despite the very tempting distraction of cheerleaders he wanted to close this case. "With all the other victims, it doesn't appear that the unsub took them against their will. By the time he chose another victim, he had already disposed of the body of the previous. With Jo, he used the previous victim as bait. He knew she wouldn't go willingly. Why?" Spencer did not look at Morgan as he said this, instead he rested his chin on his palm and stared intently at the laptop screen. "She said she knew the unsub, perhaps she knew him from a negative encounter with him and he knew that would put her off from going with him willingly?" Morgan countered, assuming a contemplative state, "We have to find out how they've interacted." Spencer nodded in agreement, before turning his gaze to Jo, who was standing on the palms of a yell leader, one leg held in a scorpion behind her head.

Yes, she was the girl all the guys went for. But he was the guy none of the girls went for. He found himself particularly distanced from the case because of that fact, and the constant reminder that she served. She was the symbol of popularity and normalcy, something he'd always secretly craved. Having an I.Q. of 187 strained his social life and often distanced himself from others simply because they looked at him as something to be used as a tool. A walking encyclopedia. Having her around made this all the more obvious simply because of what she represented, but at the end of the practice Spencer noticed something. While the other girls and the yell leaders formed into small groups, heading to the locker-room, Jo seated herself by the stereo with a notebook, reviewing the steps. She obviously held a point of leadership within the squad, but didn't interact with her teammates as socially as they did with each other.

"Hey Jo, that was pretty sweet. You come up with it?" Morgan asked, making his way down from the bleachers. "Mmhm. I still need three more eight counts before we can clean it though." She replied, not looking up from her notebook to see Morgan's flirtatious smile. She had been the first that day to repel his charms though. Throughout the practice some of the girls had whispered amongst themselves or even sent flirty winks towards Morgan throughout the routine. He had been happy to return the favor with a smile or a reciprocated wink, but said nothing as they left.

Spencer found himself bringing the focus back to the case, "Miss Merino-"

"Jo, Dr. Reid." She corrected him, making a note in her book.

"Er…Jo," He said awkwardly, this was not helping him in his endeavors to distance himself, "Have you had any negative encounters with any men recently, at all?" To this Jo looked up with a bitter laugh, "Every day of my life, am I supposed to be able to narrow it down?" She asked icily. This was obviously a touchy subject. "Again, we believe that the unsub knows you, but has been scorned by you in some manner. That's what he used his previous victim-"

"Christina," Jo corrected him again, "Her name was Christina Manning. She was 19 years old and she had a fiancé, a mother, a father, and a 10 year old little sister that she left behind."

"Jo, Dr. Reid isn't trying to offend you." Morgan intervened, "Or undermine seriousness of the matter. The point is he knew you wouldn't go with him willingly like the other girls did. This would imply that the interactions you've had with him weren't exactly pleasant." Jo eyed the two detectives warily, before standing, "There was a guy at a game last year. He wasn't exactly the serial killer type though…" She said softly, shouldering her bag, "He was a looker, real hot shot soccer player. Asked me if I wanted to do dinner, I told him no because I had a final the next week. He kept trying but I wasn't really interested. Finally he got all upset one day, started telling me that I didn't know how good I'd have it with him and that I was a stuck up bitch." Morgan nodded, "Does this guy have a name?"

"Martin Walker," She said, "But I don't think he's capable of something like this."

"Miss Me- er… Jo," Spencer corrected himself, and her eyes found his, "No offense, but I would rather be safe than sorry." She relaxed a bit, releasing tension from her shoulders and sighing, "Thank you, Dr. Reid. And you too Agent Morgan." She said biting her lip before making her way to the car, stereo and notebook in tow.

"Reid, eyeing up the victim are you?" Morgan said mischievously once she was a safe distance away. "Seeing as you were eyeing up everyone else on her squad, I don't see how you would have had time to notice." Spencer snapped. This whole situation was putting him on edge, and frankly he just wanted out. "Whoa there pretty boy, I touched a nerve." Morgan said, throwing up his hands in defense, "I didn't say there was anything wrong with that. Maybe you could wow her with some of your weird facts and knowledge." Reid scoffed, "She'd have to be capable of understanding it before she could appreciate it." Morgan raised an eyebrow, "I don't know that she's all that dumb, but whatever man." He countered before letting the argument drop.

Later that night, the BAU team found themselves sitting within Jo's apartment discussing the case. "Alright, I have some biscuits and some sweet tea here, if anyone wants any help yourselves." She said, setting the tray on the table. Penelope smiled sweetly before doing just that, along with Morgan and Prentiss. "Miss Mer-" Hotchner started, but the agent was cut off again. "I've gotten Dr. Reid in trouble for calling me that all day now, my name's Jo. No need for formalities." She said with a polite smile in Spencer's direction. He couldn't help but appreciate the fact that usage of her first name wasn't a privilege held specifically for Morgan or another member of the team. "Jo, we talked to Martin and he has a rock solid alibi for the case, and hardly fits the description you gave the team after the attack. Is there anyone else you could think of that this might be?"

Jo shook her head, "No sir. I don't do a whole lot of social running, my school work takes up most of my time." She sighed, "He said this wasn't over. Do you think he's going to try to take me again? Will he kill more girls?" This time it was Spencer who interjected, "The likelihood is that he now feels as though he's not ready to abduct you. He'll probably continue practicing-"

"Only if we don't catch him first." J.J. said maternally, giving Spencer a sharp look as she cut him off, "But he has been into your apartment. Are you sure there's nothing we could do to get you out of here, at least for the night?" Jo shook her head rigorously, a blonde curl falling onto her face. "No ma'am. That'd be letting him win, and if he wants to play games I'm more than happy to play. I refuse to change any part of my life for this man." It was then that the team saw the spark in her eye, this girl meant business. Hotch stood back, arms crossed before interjecting, "Alright, but you're aware that a member of the team will be with you or nearby at all times then?" Jo smiled, "By all means, ya'll are welcome to set up shop here if you guys want. Do what you've got to."

It was decided that Morgan and Reid would stay with Jo, as J.J. had to get home to her son and Prentiss had not been feeling well. Having been given an hour or two, Spencer ran home to grab some of his things before returning to the apartment so Morgan could do the same. "Dr. Reid," Said a voice as Jo emerged from the kitchen, "Do either you or Agent Morgan have any food allergies?" Spencer had been taken aback, "No, but-"

"That's all I asked Dr. Reid." She said with an impish smile before returning to the kitchen. Spencer wasn't sure what to do, he hadn't counted on her being so hospitable, and he felt somewhat bad that she had decided to cook dinner for them. Running an exasperated hand through his hair, he rose from his spot on the loveseat and followed her into the kitchen. "You really don't have to-"He started, before she whirled on him with a handful of potatoes. "Dr. Reid, the only people allowed in my kitchen are the ones making the food. I know I don't have to do this, but I want to. Now either help me peel the potatoes or go sit down." Feeling as though it would have been rude to leave her to do the work herself he sighed and picked up a knife and sat down at the kitchen table. She had set up a trashcan between them so as to catch the peelings, and was humming lightly to herself. They sat like this for a moment, Spencer thinking of all the possible ways out of the situation. He found himself smiling at her southern hospitality, and her spitfire attitude and couldn't help but grow slightly fond of her and her mannerisms. Not how he had intended things to go. Before he could formulate a definitive plan, Jo set down the knife she had been using as they had peeled the last of the potatoes.

"Is there a specific reason you don't like me?" She asked irritably. Sputtering, Spencer accidently let his knife slip, cutting his thumb. He hissed in pain, before he felt her grab his hand with a paper towel and guide him to the sink, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Oh hush." She said, running his finger under cool water before removing a first aid kit from under the cabinets. She took out a large Band-Aid and some antiseptic swabs, and as Spencer reached for them with his good hand she swatted it. "So help me, Dr. Reid you are not getting out of that question so easily." She said, turning off the sink and drying his hand, "As long as you're injured, you're at my mercy so fess up." She began to clean the wound before sticking on a large flesh colored Band-Aid.

"I-I don't dislike you," he started, stammering over his words, "I just- I thought…. Why would you want me to like you?" He sounded like an idiot. He knew that. But for some reason it didn't faze her, "I guess it bothered me that you seemed so standoffish around me. I wondered if I'd done something." She said lightly, picking up the potatoes and carrying them to the sink to wash them, "If I have, I'm terribly sorry but I never meant to offend you." It was then that Spencer felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He hadn't realized she had even noticed him until now, let alone cared whether he liked her or not. "I'm sorry, I just…didn't think you'd want someone like me-"

"Someone like you? And exactly what is that supposed to mean?" She continued on with her culinary activities while Spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Someone who has more brains than social skills or common sense." It was then that she froze. She turned around lightly, holding the stitches in her left arm. "Dr. Reid why on earth would that be a problem?" To this he only shrugged, but she continued, "Let me guess, it's because of what I look like? Because I'm a cheerleader? Because you know exactly what I'm like from those two things? Let me tell you something Dr. Reid." She took a step closer, and pressed a finger to his chest, "I don't have a brain to get me through school. Sure, I get good grades and I'm smart, but that's only because every day of my life, I work my ass off to get those grades. I don't have a rich mommy and daddy to pay for things. I don't have anything, other than my talent in cheerleading. It wasn't my first choice on how to get through school, but it's getting me through school. I don't have any debt. Don't you dare judge me for what I have to do to survive, and don't you dare think I would judge you for what you do best."

Spencer was frozen. She was staring up at him, fire emerging from her deep blue eyes, and although she barely reached his chin, he could easily see that she was a force to be reckoned with. He nodded slowly, and she relaxed in front of him. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I-"

"Call me Spencer." He didn't know what possessed him to say it. It just felt right. He knew it was as soon as he saw the smile that lit up her face. "Alright, Spencer. I know you probably want to get back to work, so in the living room, on the right side of the fireplace, there's a whiteboard. You can use my desk, whatever you need, but make yourself at home." Spencer watched as she returned to what she had been doing, baffled. Was that all it took to make this girl happy? The right to call him by his first name? He lightly shook his head before retreating back to the living room, where he found the large whiteboard along with markers, and wheeled it out to sit by her desk. A knock resounded on her door, and he shot up. "Would you like me to get that?" He asked, and she poked her head out of the kitchen nervously and nodded her head. He could still see the fear in her eyes, and felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. Peering out the hole in her door, he saw it was only Morgan carrying a bag of his things. "Hey pretty boy, how was your alone time with the pretty lady?" Morgan asked with a wink. Spencer rolled his eyes, before making his way back to the make-shift office he had set up. It wasn't long after that before he heard the sound of plates clattering as she set the table, and Morgan stood up to help. Feeling obliged to do the same, Spencer stood but she had already returned to the kitchen, only to emerge with a platter of pork chops and a large bowl of mashed potatoes, "Eat up boys. It's gonna be a long night. Sit wherever you want, but let me know if you need anything." She said happily and fixed herself a plate before grabbing three textbooks and sprawling across the floor.

Spencer couldn't help but smile at the almost childish position as she flipped through her books, highlighting things and furrowing her brow. It was going to be a long night, because not only did Spencer now have an unsub to unravel, he found himself wanting to unravel her, as well as his own feelings.


	4. Chapter 4

Hours passed like that. Spencer working on the case, papers spread out in an organized chaos across the desk, with words scrawled all over the whiteboard in a manner which only he could understand. She had set up an air mattress in the living room as well so that one of them wouldn't have to sleep on the floor. She had brought out pillows and blankets for both of them, almost in a doting manner. Occaisionally, he'd glance over his right shoulder and find Jo with her hand tangled in her hair, or biting her lip in confusion. He would never allow himself more than a glance though, as she appeared to be very observant. The profiler in him began to go to work. She seemed completely at ease with them, spreading herself across the floor in a very relaxed manner. She had showered shortly after dinner and her perfume smelled of mangos and hibiscus. To Spencer it was a very distinct scent. Judging by her mannerisms and etiquette, she had been raised in a loosely traditional family, with a focus on hospitality. She was very focused on her physical health, as muscles could be seen rippling throughout her lean frame. Looking at her book shelf, he couldn't help but notice that nothing existed except textbooks and the occaisional Crichton novel. No photos. None of family or friends, not even a dog. Spencer frowned. She was consumed by her studies, almost obsessively so. In a way, Spencer found himself very attracted to this part of her, this part that resembled him.

In fact, it seemed as though she resembled him in many ways. They were both judged on outwards appearances, both dealt with the every day struggle of stereotypes. The only difference was that she seemed to have overcome it. In a way, he wondered if he too could overcome the stereotypical image given to him, perhaps become as charming as Morgan or as social as Garcia. He was certain that Jo would like that. With that thought he froze, and glanced towards her yet again. She was a mystery to him, not in the profiler sense though. "Spencer?" Both Morgan and Spencer snapped their heads in different directions, Spencer towards Jo, and Morgan's towards Spencer. Morgan cocked an eyebrow and offered a knowing smirk, but Spencer paid no mind. "You wouldn't happen to know much about antibiotic resistant bacteria would you?" The genuine curiousity in her voice was attention grabbing, but it was that hope that captivated him. The hope that he did know something about what she was asking, not the automatic assumption that he did. "Can you narrow it down for me?" he asked, walking over to her and sitting down on the floor. "Cellular efflux pumps." She said pointing at a diagram. And just like that, they were off. It was as though they naturally flowed together, slipping and sliding through the paragraphs and diagrams of her textbook. Occasionally, her fingertips would brush his, or he would catch a whiff of her shampoo. It was maddening. She was his next puzzle. What did she like? What made her different? What did she think of him? He wanted to know everything about her. More than what the background check had revealed. The gasp of excitement as comprehension set in brought a smile to his face. He had helped her conquer her studies. Now it was time to help her conquer her stalker. With a brief thank you she stood up and walked over to his (or rather her) desk. Sitting down in front of it she stared at the pictures of the victims, her eyes taking in every detail. Morgan sat up straighter, and Spencer found himself tensing as well. So far she hadn't cried, hadn't had any panic attacks, there were only small signs of fear here and there. No one knew how emotionally stable she was, or wasn't.

Suddenly, it seemed as though something within her snapped. She didn't lash out in anger, she didn't lash out in fear. Instead, she sat herself on the desk, on Spencer's papers, and began to reorganize the pictures of the girls. "Where were they all found?" She asked, carrying on with her activities. Spencer hesitated, but she answered for him, "Let me guess, in a meadow, or clearing of some kind arranged with white gerber daisies?" Spencer froze. None of the pictures revealed that, only the map behind them revealed where they had been found: Parks across Virginia. Openining her desk draw, she pulled out a photo binder and flipped to a specific photo. It was her, laying in a field, one hand laid lazily next to her head with a white gerber daisy in it. Around her, small white flowers sprouted everywhere, almost blending into the pure white, cotton lingerie she wore. She laid it in front of Agent Morgan, much to Spencer's disappointment, but he met them both at the couch. "My junior year at ODU I did a small modeling gig, and I got to pick my favorite flower. I chose a white gerber daisy." She said softly, losing color in her face, "No one in my school let me live it down after it someone posted it all over the campus… I almost lost my scholarship." She said softly. Spencer swallowed hard. In the picture she looked so innocent, the white accentuating that, but the way her legs had been splayed helplessly beneath her, with the subtle arch in her back, said otherwise. Morgan flipped open his phone and immediately began dialing, "Hotch, we've got a break through." He said, stepping outside. This left her and Spencer alone on the couch, her sitting on the arm, slightly looming above him. Even in this position she seemed vulnerable, pulling her arms around her tightly she looked down at the photo, pursing her lips.

Jo trembled slightly, before abruptly rising to her feet and heading towards the back door to her patio. Spencer stood to stop her but she was already out the door, in nothing but her bare feet, shorts and long sweater. He quickly followed after her, analyzing the situation. She ran out with her arms wrapped around her, she was afraid. She ran out barefoot, she was irrationally afraid now. They were on the third story. As he opened the door, the fear disappated and was replaced by the familiar pang in his chest. She was sitting on the ground, knees pulled tightly to her chest in a desperate embrace, and there were tears strolling down her face. "Can you just leave me for a minute? Please?" She asked in a trembling voice. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that." Spencer said, standing awkwardly behind her. Should he sit down next to her? Should he leave and watch from the window? He didn't know how to deal with women on a normal basis, let alone when they were distraught because some serial killer was pursuing them. She let out a cynical laugh, before collapsing her forehead on her knees, "I guess that wouldn't be the best idea." She murmured through her tears, "Will it ever get better-"

"We'll catch him. You'll go back to living your life as if nothing happened." Spencer assured her, slowly moving closer to her. She scoffed, "Like what? Like three girls aren't dead because of me? Or will it be four?" Spencer froze for a moment. Did she not have faith in them? Didn't she think they would catch him? Her comment almost felt like a stab against him personally. "We will catch him." He said, this time more confidently. She looked up at him, eyes red and glazed, and simply sat there for a moment before standing up and touching his hand lightly, "Thank you…" was all she said, before she headed inside and back into her bedroom for the night. That single touch had put Spencer on edge, jolting him back to his senses and he found himself sitting at his desk once more. Morgan eyed him warily from the couch, but didn't disturb him. Spencer was on a mission. By morning he would have this figured out.

It was 5 a.m. when she came into the living room, dressed in nothing but yoga pants and a sports bra. "Good morning Spencer, good morning Agent Morgan." She said happily. Morgan glared at the light, and looked at her, "Are you always this much of a morning person?" he asked in astonishment. She laughed lightly, "Always." She chimed brightly, before pulling out a skillet and cooking supplies. Spencer had yet to acknowledge her, he was finishing up the final touches on who the unsub might be. All the parks were within a Northeast bound line, starting in Georgia, working their way towards Virginia. This would imply that the unsub was from her hometown of Thomaston, Georgia and that he probably knew her from high school. The pattern of killings was consistent, each of the victims had been sexually assaulted, beaten, and bled out arterially. The arteries were cut with incredible precision, as if the person had some sort of medical knowledge. He had Penelope do a search for anyone from Jo's high school who would have any sort of medical training, and fit the profile of a relatively charismatic and attractive unsub. One person came up: Allen Lockwood, graduated the class below Jo and became a mortician. Intended to go to medical school, but couldn't afford to. He was big, muscular, with mousy brown hair and blue eyes. His jawline could cut diamonds, and he had a smile that rivaled Morgan's as well as no criminal record. Everything fit.

About a half hour later, a large batch of buttermilk pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon was on Jo's kitchen table. "Alright, come and get it." She said happily, "That means you too Spencer. Peel yourself off the whiteboard, I made some coffee too." Morgan laughed as he set down the stack of papers he was working with, "A woman after my own heart." He said with a chuckle, before helping himself. Spencer had to do a double take as he looked at Jo's plate, there was at least 4 pancakes, a large serving of eggs, and 4 strips of bacon. "Good grief girl, where do you put all that?" Morgan asked, with just as much astonishment. Jo smiled sheepishly, "I have a pretty high metabolism from all the stuff I do for cheerleading so… I eat a lot." She replied, before grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table and opening up a day planner, "There's enough for everyone if you boys wanna tell your team to come on over." She said taking a sip and sighing. Her hair was up in a long ponytail and there were bags under her eyes, which told Spencer she hadn't slept very well. Of course he had no room to talk, but still. It concerned him. After calling Hotch, Morgan told them that the team would be there in approximately an hour and not to wait up for them on breakfast. "So Jo," He started, sipping on his own coffee, "What did you do in high school? Your records didn't say much other than you were a cheerleader." She stiffened slightly, but replied, "I was pretty unremarkable in high school honestly. I got good grades, sang in the church choir, cheered my senior year but not much else. I didn't really have the time to. I had to help around the house a lot." Spencer couldn't help but snap to attention, "But you did have prior knowledge of the sport, right?" he asked. She shrugged, "I was into dance, but not the kind that would get me a scholarship to ODU. Cheerleading was a much more viable option." She ended the conversation by picking up her plate, and heading to the kitchen to do dishes.

Morgan cocked an eyebrow at this, there was something they were missing from her history and they both knew it. For now though, both the men brought their plates into the kitchen and helped silently with clean up. During this time, Spencer brooded. It was frustrating to him that she wouldn't share more, to be more open. He wanted her to trust him. By the time the kitchen was clean again, he was in a sour mood. Jo, on the other hand was humming lightly as she put away the last pan before her eyes scoured the kitchen for anything left out of place. She had a place for everything in the home and appeared to be a minimalist as a whole, preferring open space to decorations or "organized chaos". Spencer appreciated this, as it made things easier for him to think, but wondered what her reasons were.

"I'm going on the porch to do yoga if either of you need me." She said, shouldering a yoga mat and heading out to greet the dawn. The apartment she had chosen faced east, something she specifically searched for so as to be able to watch the sun rise in the mornings. With several breathing exercises beneath her, she started her routine, focusing mainly on her legs and shoulders this morning.

Inside Morgan chuckled, "You got it bad, pretty boy." He said while sorting through some papers, "Although from what I've seen, I approve." Spencer's head whipped around, "I'm not interested in her, and she isn't interested in me." He said simply, peering outside. She had her sight set forward, eyes slightly glazed, with one leg behind her straight in the air, and one arm pointing forward. Morgan shook his head again, "I don't see anything wrong with being interested. I mean, I certainly would be if you aren't."

"She's a victim Morgan, she-"

"She doesn't define herself that way, why should we treat her that way?" Morgan asked before dropping the conversation. This silenced Spencer. One of the greatest setbacks in his ability to allow himself to get closer to her was the fact that she was strictly a victim. She couldn't be more than that, due to his strict professionalism. Could she?


End file.
